Void of Lime
by Klavierliebe
Summary: Forgetting tradition isn't always a bad thing -- especially when a particular Blackthorne Boy is involved. G/B


I do not own Gallagher Girls.  
I do not own St. Patrick's Day.

**.Void of Lime.**

"Bex," Cammie greeted me with the brief quirk of a smile before flourishing off in a thin cloud of honeysuckle perfume. The door shut behind her as I continued wringing my hair out. That's funny -- I didn't know Cam had dangly emerald earrings…

I was the last one out of the room. Liz had left early so she could review her Adv. Chemistry notes before breakfast, Macey had darted out with a grumble about starting school late, and Cam had just taken her leave directly after I'd completed my morning shower.

It was almost nice, being left in the room alone. Pretty boring though. I sprung up and changed like lightning so I could snag some waffles before the bell rang -- if I didn't hurry, Mick might use all the cranberry syrup. That would most certainly tick me off, and I happen to share P.&E. with Mick…

Anyway, I had managed to seat myself beside Cammie and snag the last bit of cranberry syrup from under my competition's nose when I noticed something odd. "Cammie," I began, narrowing my cocoa eyes at her. "Those earrings have a striking similarity to a certain Blackthorne Boy's eyes."

Now, on Cammie's behalf, I will let it be known that she hid her blush well for being in the same room as said boy. (Sure, he was across the room at the other table, but distance is no obstacle for an eavesdropping spy.) I am, however, her best friend, and concealing such petty occurrences from me is borderline impossible. She set down her fork void of any clatter -- Madame Dabney would have been proud -- and replied, "I hadn't noticed. It's the only green accessory I own, anyway, so it's not like I have a choice."

Now I was most definitely missing something. "Excuse me?" I asked faintly, tearing my gaze from the scrumptious cranberry-slathered waffles before me. Surveying her dawning, amused expression, I got a bad feeling in my gut -- I would be kicking someone later for this.

Cammie laughed, her brunette locks bobbing around her head. "I reminded you yesterday," she chimed, "but you _still _forgot -- and you call yourself a spy?"

Aw, no way.

"That's _today_?" I half-screeched, instantly annoyed. I'd forgotten. Son of a…I'd _forgotten_! Me! I thought I was more professional then this, honestly. Maybe I could turn the tables on the Blackthorne boys, who most likely had no inkling of the tradition.

Liz, interrupted from her flashcards by my commotion, flicked her sea-blue eyes up to us. I, of course, immediately noted the lime hair-tie she'd used in her ponytail. I am an idiot. "What is it?" she asked wispily, still half-absorbed in her reading.

"Bex forgot what day it is," Cammie supplied for her. Unfortunately, about half the table heard her and turned to gawk at me. My face wasn't growing hot; thankfully, I could withstand a blush better then Cammie. Honestly, though, they shouldn't be surprised. Someone forgets every year, this year it just happened to be…me.

"Do you know what _that_ means?" Tina asked, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes and a malicious smile curling up the corners of her lips. Mick cackled (her twisted perspective of revenge?) and cracked her knuckles.

_Oh, crap._

I'd forgotten about that, too -- the "punishment" for forgetting to celebrate this seemingly totally unnecessary holiday. (Turns out Gillian Gallagher was a fan.) You've all heard of it, I assume? Pinching. It's worse when there's an entire truckload of spies-in-training tensing to pounce on you at any second, fingers itchin' to do some pinchin' -- all for _extra credit_. Sometimes, I hate Mr. Solomon with a burning passion.

"Maybe you should run," Liz advised, flipping her blonde locks behind her ear with a smile and setting down her precious flashcards. I couldn't run -- Rebecca Baxter did not run….she _bolted_.

I was off the table and halfway to the doors before they'd leaped after me. _Go, go, go! _I was pelting down the halls, whipping around corners, flying across passageways. It was insane. It was amazing. The thrill, the rush of adrenaline, was superb…maybe I should do this more often.

That was, of course, before I broke out of the P.&E. barn, into the early spring sunshine, and grinned. _Phew. _They couldn't possibly be behind me, Gallagher girls or no Gallagher girls. Perhaps Cam kept up with me, or Macey was clever enough to attempt intercepting me. I doubted it, though.

What I didn't count on, however, was the Blackthorne Boys.

I cussed loudly in my head as a familiar shape slouched out from behind the barn. How in the world had he known I would end up here, of all places? I was becoming entirely too predictable. That would have to change -- and soon.

"Good morning, Grant," I acknowledged, not betraying an ounce of the tension in my limbs. I was ready to bolt at any second; it all depended on whether he, and his inevitable backup troops, were fully aware of how seriously we take our traditions here at Gallagher. He trotted closer, sandy-brown hair ruffling in the morning breeze.

He grinned boyishly, flashing perfectly white teeth. "Fancy meeting you here."

I nodded, shrugging helplessly. "What can I say? It's a beautiful morning for a jog."

"The morning's not the only beautiful thing," he said, smile widening as he steps closer. I'm momentarily stunned. Did those words really come out of that mouth? Since when did fate decide to smile upon me -- especially today, in the wake of what I'd done?

Next thing I knew, he was directly in front of me -- no, pressed against me -- not quite; now he's kissing me and _whoa what day is it again? _The ground decided to buckle and whirl under me as flashing fireworks (why are they green?) light up behind my eyelids as they shut.

And then…_ow!_

Grant's fingers close around my arm in a quick, but exceedingly painful, pinch. I'm jolted back to reality, instantly furious, as he steps away from me victoriously. "Happy Saint Patrick's Day, Bex."

_Crap. _Well…maybe I'd forget to wear green again next year, too.

--

A/N:  
Happy St. Patrick's Day!  
Hope you enjoy the fluff.


End file.
